


Drive

by DennisCrumb



Category: Split (2016)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Road Trips, Sort of I guess?, sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 13:51:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10992234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DennisCrumb/pseuds/DennisCrumb
Summary: In which Casey thinks The Horde are the worst car passengers ever





	Drive

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone waiting for my other fics I will have the next chapter of The Fire Escape uploaded by the end of next week!

Casey’s laying on someone’s former dusty, old green and yellow floral couch in some abandoned apartment complex, metal spring digging into her waist, parched from the evening heat coming through the broken windows. She’s never felt more free than now.

When the floorboards creak and she lifts her head to catch the offender that’s broken the rare moment of silence that feeling doesn't fade.

“We need food.”

Dennis’ voice has her sitting up, hands wrapping around her now growling stomach thanks to the reminder. He’d left sometime last night and came back with some rolled up cash and clothes that clearly belonged to him. She hadn’t asked how he managed to break inside his home without a swat team on his tail, she was just glad to wear something else. Dennis was wearing a leather jacket with a hood and baseball hat. Casey quickly changes into an oversized dark blue hoodie and sunglasses. It isn't the best clothing for this weather but it's perfect for not being spotted.

It's been two days since she’d followed The Beast out of that dark, damp facility and into the light. All they’ve had to eat was from a stolen grocery bag lifted from a cart containing three cans of corn, energy bars, and one crushed bag of chips while he healed. She was starving but she had no idea how they were going to get more food.

“Oh-kay?” Casey frowns at his obvious statement. Her stomach feels like it’s going to cave in on itself any moment now but she can’t go out any more than he can, the entirety of Philly has probably seen their faces plastered on various newspapers and stations by now. And she'd rather stick with them then go back to her uncle again, or land in another home with someone just like him.

“I got us a car," Dennis says.

She soon learns that the car is a beat up four door disappointment that she honestly couldn’t say with certainty if it had seen better days or not underneath the grime and dents. She really hopes the inside is better.

“Where’d you find this?" Casey asks uncomfortably.

“Nowhere I ever want to go again, but it runs and despite the outside appearance it's clean. And functioning. But we should get everything we need and dump it soon after."

Casey nods. "I assume we're going to steal some food?" It was way too soon for them to waltz in the store and peruse down the aisles.

"You would assume correctly. Get in.” Dennis tosses her the car keys and she flounders.

"Um..."

“It’s a stick, by the way. You can drive, can’t you?” Dennis arches his brow.

“I know how everything works,” she mutters, taking offense.

“You know the area?”

Casey nods.

“Good.”

Casey slides into the driver’s seat, clips her seatbelt on, and fixes her mirrors before starting the engine. Instead of doing the same, Dennis pops the lever to recline his own seat back and out of view from any peering eyes. His face would undoubtedly be more noticeable than hers.

Casey glances back at Dennis, his hands fidgeting on his abdomen, eyes closed. It was a strange sight to see him so vulnerable in this small space.

The drive is silent for the first five minutes other than the low hum of the radio which Casey enjoys. She likes the wind in her hair and the open road, her mind running freely and with giddiness at the thought of _real food_ and the possibility of locating somewhere less dusty and critter infested.

And then Dennis sighs.

Repeatedly.

Loudly.

In shorter intervals.

“How fast are you going?” His use of actual words startles her from her thoughts.

Casey tenses defensively at the frown she unmistakably hears in his voice. “I’m going the speed limit.”

Dennis sighs again and slumps against his seat, drums his fingers on the console between them.

She realizes he hadn't asked because he was concerned of being pulled over but rather he thought she was driving much too slow. This doesn't bother her - rather cautious than reckless - but then he starts huffing and sighing again.

Casey grits her teeth as she watches Dennis out of the corner of her eye. He opens the console and shifts its contents inside (papers, pens, and coins) half crouching forward, arm knocking against hers as he inspects the items noisily, drowning out the radio.

“What are you doing?” Casey attempts to keep her voice light but she still hears the agitation straining in that last word. She had been resting her arm on the console (she was driving so she gets dibs on it) before he'd knocked it off, and was all that crumpling really necessary?

Dennis doesn’t answer but he closes the console back, the latch clicking shut.

Casey relaxes and fully focuses her attention back on the road, estimating the time in which they should reach their destination; about ten minutes going by the traffic. She doesn’t even notice at first how the console’s latch rhythmically clicks over the sound of the traffic and radio. Until she does.

“Can you…possibly _not_ to do that?” Her voice comes out low and threatening.

The clicking stops so he goes back to drumming his fingers. A moment later, his left foot joins with every other _tap, tap, tap_ of his hand.

“Are you always like this in the car?” Casey glances quickly at her bored looking passenger.

Dennis gives her a blank look. “Yes.”

One minute later, Casey quickly learns how much Dennis is a fidgeter. And he fucking fidgets all right - with _everything_. The car radio. His window. The glove compartment. His seatbelt. The air conditioning.

Casey clenches the steering wheel harder, feels its ridges over the tacky leopard cover digging into her palm. She almost wants to ask if he has some of that knockout spray he’d used on her so she can drive in peace.

When Dennis goes for the radio the fifth time Casey turns the volume all the way down.

“I was listening to that.”

Casey makes a sharp left a little rougher than necessary. “ _Were you_? Were you _really_?”

It amazes her how little she apparently knows about this man’s habits despite being holed up in an apartment with him for two days. She certainly never would have pegged him of all people as a restless passenger.

Dennis turns the volume back up and the car is enveloped in a high pitch shriek accompanied by the fast paced beats of pop music. Dennis quickly switches the station.

Again and again _and again._

Casey blows out a stream of air, props her elbow on the door panel and leans her head in her hand. Her eyes zero in over his indecisive index finger until it stops, the radio landing on a boring news station which only serves to irritate her more.

Who the fuck listens to the news _in the car?_

“Casey?”

Casey hums, faux sweet.

“Would you happen to know the station for the _local_ news?”

 _You should know it by now_ , Casey thinks darkly. “I don’t.”

“I’m glad that you decided to join us," Dennis says, changing the topic a little awkwardly. "It's nice not being alone, you know?"

Casey herself was having second thoughts.

The way her heart jerks as if she’s suddenly in a life or death situation when she sees Dennis’ hand move towards the radio again might be a bit overreacting but she can’t help it at this point. She slaps the wandering hand away, the loud smack echoing.

"Stop. Touching. The. Radio." Casey throws a tight smile his way as she sees his eyes widen behind his glasses in surprise. 

Dennis does sit up then with an affronted look on his face.

And then he reaches for the volume.

Without thinking too much, Casey reaches for his hand and doesn’t let go, tugging it over to rest on the stick, her fingers sliding between his. Tightly. A silent warning. If she could stomach it then she’d happily bite his other hand off.

But to her surprise, he doesn’t move. 

She fumbles for a while with trying to turn one handed but she soon gets the hang of it.

 

***

 

“Put your seatbelt on,” Patricia instructs as she settles in the middle of the backseat.

Casey's fingers are already curled around the seatbelt and it's in that moment she knows this drive won’t be any less aggravating than the ones with Dennis.

They’d finally found a place to stay after a month in abandoned buildings. It was a shabby hotel with a shady looking owner who didn’t even do a double take when Casey slid more money than necessary for the next few nights across the counter. 

As Casey pulls out around their hopefully last abandoned rundown building she can feel Patricia's eyes on her. Casey makes sure to go five below the speed limit, not that she wanted this drive to last longer than needed. The motel was only seven minutes away and she couldn't wait to pass out.

“Make sure your blinker is on.”

“I know,” Casey grumbles, stretching the words out. Her ears are heating as she feels her age for the first time in a long time and wonders if this what it would feel like driving with her mom. She’s already nervous with the woman sitting behind her, legs somehow crossed even in this small space with her head held high like she's not riding in a squeaky old heap of junk.

Just when Casey was hoping that maybe Patricia won’t be as bad as Dennis when the first and then the second minute rolls along, that thought was devastatingly shattered.

“You’re too close to the curb, dear, might want to budge over.”

Casey was, in fact, nowhere near the curb but she puts Patricia at ease and does as told.

“Now you’re too close to the other lane. We don’t want to get side swiped, do we?”

Patricia’s cheery, faux concerned voice has Casey biting her tongue with some real, harsh ones.

“Can you let my window down, dear?”

Casey frowns. "The windows aren't locked."

"I know, but my nails are drying and I don't want to touch the button."

“Okay. _Sure_ ,” she breathes out, slowly getting annoyed because it was clear paint and who was even around to admire them _besides_ Casey.

“Watch the car coming up beside you.”

“I see it.”

"Casey, too close."

" _I see it._ "

" _Casey_." Patricia sounds like she's going to lose her shit.

"Ms. Patricia," Casey groans.

The car passes by without incident and both breathe out a sigh of relief.

"Okay," Patricia says happily. "Now watch this other car."

“Ms. Patricia, _please_ , I have perfect vision. I've been driving for a month without incident. I'm not going to kill us."

"I'm just trying to improve your driving skills with a tip or two."

 _What you're trying to do is drive me to my early grave_ , Casey thinks. Inhaling deeply, she attempts to hum agreeably and leave it be. It comes out strangled and angry.

Patricia doesn't comment.

The roar of a truck has Casey glancing up in her rearview right at the moment its driver decides to set their headlights brighter than the sun.

Casey blinks away the dark spots dancing in her vision, wincing in pain. "Ugh. Just great."

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she sighs, "it's just kind of hard to see now." Casey signals to get in the other lane. The driver of the truck does the same and blares their horn a little longer than courtesy dictates.

"What an asshole," Patricia tuts. "Beep your horn back."

"What? I'm not gonna do that. This guy might be looking for trouble and-"

Casey startles as Patricia darts forward, hand pressing down on the steering wheel to beep the horn.

“What are you doing!?" Casey sputters. "Are you trying to get us killed, or caught!?"

The truck swerves in the next lane and speeds up, beeping their horn again and getting too close for comfort against their small, banged up vehicle.

Casey shoots a look at Patricia whose now climbing to the front seat - nails be damned - with a heat in her eyes that she's glad isn't directed at her.

"Cut in front of him," Patricia orders.

"I'm not one for road rage," she laughs nervously.

"Do it," Patricia demands, an amused, vicious  expression on her face.

Casey guns it, speeding past the truck while Patricia opens the glove box, rummaging around for- 

"What are you going to do with that?" Casey says worriedly, eyeing the small wrench in the woman's hand.

"This."

Casey automatically leans back, too shocked to protest as Patricia reaches over her to roll down the window and lean out it. One loud  _smack_  later and the truck behind them screeches and careens off the road where it jerks to a halt in a small field, the driver’s horn blaring until Casey can no longer see them.

“That will teach them to cut me off.” 

“You’re not even driving!" Casey shouts. While her heart's pounding up an entire discography of beats, Patricia is smiling smugly.

Patricia doesn't critique her for the rest of the drive and Casey can’t help the small, mad laugh that bubbles forth.

 

***

 

_BEEEEEEEEEEEP_

 

Casey startles awake at the constant blaring of the car horn and immediately swats the large, familiar hand away from the steering wheel.

Pushing her tangled mess of hair back from her bleary eyesight Casey glares at - Hedwig, without a doubt - as he giggles from the passenger seat.

“ _Why_?” Casey croaks pitifully.

Hedwig hums an “I don’t know” while smiling before saying, “I was bored.”

“Well, it’s time to sleep now.” Casey grabs the blanket that had fallen when she sat up and pulls it around her shoulders again.

The only reason they were sleeping in the car right now instead of the motel was because of The Beast’s recent attack being too close to home. She guessed even rooms with torn wallpaper and itchy sheets were acceptable for desperate prom dates. _That_ didn't go over too well and by the time Casey came back from getting ice and a few candy bars from the vending machine all hell had broken loose.

Hedwig lets out a huff and rolls his eyes before slumping back. “But it’s too _uncomfortable_ ,” he whines. “And I’m _bored_. And I can't go to sleep.”

"Close your eyes and try anyway," Casey mumbles. She fights to keep her own eyes open, not trusting Hedwig to behave if she falls asleep.

“Ooh, I have an idea.”

“No,” she says immediately.

“We'll make a deal. Let me drive and...I'll try to go to sleep.” Hedwig begins to sit up as much as he can, head thumping against the roof of the car as he tries to scooch into the driver’s seat as if she'd already agreed.

Alarm tightens her chest and she attempts to push him back over. “ _Hedwig_ ,” she squeaks, only now staring to fully awaken. “Hedwig! No. You are not driving and you are definitely not sitting in my lap.”

The boy is now face to face with her, brows pinching and jaw slackening like she’d just said something incredibly stupid. “Wha- I can _fit_ ,” he challenges.

Casey lets out a higher pitched groan as Hedwig grunts and shimmies and gets one leg between her own triumphantly. Pressing herself with a defeated sigh against the torn leather seat, she reaches down to pull the lever, the seat flinging back as far as possible.

“Okay, okay…” Hedwig whispers to himself. “How do I start this baby up. We can go to an all night gas station and can get some chips and soda and-”

“ _No_.” Patricia was going to kill her. Come to think of it, she wonders what the woman - or any of them are doing - to allow Hedwig to go this far. Casey surely doesn't have the energy to continue arguing with a nine year old half past midnight.

Casey digs the keys out of her back pocket and Hedwig snatches them, starting the engine himself. She hardly has time to open her mouth and give instructions before both are thrusted backward as he presses down on the gas.

“Don’t press down so hard,” she warns, heart pounding like a ticking time bomb.

“I got this," Hedwig snorts confidently. "I've played Grand Theft Auto."

Hedwig bounces excitedly and Casey tries to breathe and arch her head to see that he isn’t going to run into any lamp posts while doing increasingly smaller donuts in the parking lot.

Casey groans. “I think you can drive without me as a booster seat.”

She instructs him to put the car in park before they move to get comfortable. Hedwig presses himself - against the horn, of course - as Casey struggles every which way to free herself to get in the passenger seat.

By now, she's fully awake and certain that her hair is a mess and she's lost all feeling in her lower body. "Pull into that parking lot up there," Casey points, "and I'll let you drive for a whole five minutes."

The drive to the empty parking lot probably takes up all of five minutes, both shrieking as the car lurches unevenly whenever Hedwig gets over excited. 

“I double dare ya to stick your head out the sunroof while I’m driving.” Hedwig giggles as if it’s the most scandalous thing ever.

“I’d rather not.”

“Ugh! You’re so boring, no wonder no one wants to drive with you."

Casey glares as she places one foot on the seat and her hand on the dashboard. She's had about enough of everyone's complaints with her driving. “Keep it steady.”

 

***

If Casey had ever thought that The Horde made for the most terrible passengers in the car that is quickly put out of mind when she has to clutch at The Beast's pants, yelling for him to stick his head back in and to stop shouting at passerby that they're unworthy.


End file.
